


An Old Dress

by yarnandtea



Series: Molly Trevelyan [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, One Shot, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-17
Updated: 2015-01-17
Packaged: 2018-03-08 00:01:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3188204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yarnandtea/pseuds/yarnandtea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The visit to Halamshiral makes Molly consider the life she might have led, had things been different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Old Dress

**Author's Note:**

> Just a bit of contemplation on Molly's part and insight into her feelings about magic and the course it has set for her life. 
> 
> This one might end up being a bit AU, because I haven't gotten too far in Molly's game yet and I'm not sure where she and Cullen will start up in-game OR in my canon. 
> 
> But I had this scene in my head and I really had to write it, so here we are.
> 
> Spoilers for Inquisition!

“Ah, there you are, Inquisitor. I can’t say I blame you for hiding up here, although I daresay Ambassador Montilyet would be disappointed. She expects you to mingle, you know.”

Molly tensed at the newcomer’s first words, but as recognition hit she began to relax. She shut away the small part of her that still squirmed with unease at the thought of being caught alone in the shadows by a Templar, all by herself where she wasn’t supposed to be, and with no one nearby to witness their exchange. There were no Circles anymore, after all, she reminded that part of herself. Nor was Cullen any longer a Templar.

Even if they had been back in the Circle, she would not need fear him. He might have questioned her, encouraged her to return to where she should be, even likely escorted her there himself. But he wouldn’t have taken advantage. He wouldn’t have hurt her. She’d long since taken his measure, and that was not who he was. Despite the darkness in his past he’d let slip only the barest hints of, she didn’t believe he’d ever been that kind of man.

And he was utterly out of his element here.

She shifted her eyes from the dancefloor to where Cullen stood a few paces shy of her. His gaze searched the shadows for any possible threat, and his hand hovered near his waist, where the pommel of his sword would be, had he been allowed to wear it inside the palace. His usual sense of stillness, of focus, was gone, replaced by an agitated restlessness that Molly suspected was due to more than just their ulterior motive here. True, she’d noticed the restlessness back at Skyhold more than once in recent weeks, but tonight she thought the cause was unrelated to those episodes. He’d been garnering quite a bit of attention downstairs.

A smile twitched up the corners of Molly’s mouth. He _did_ cut a rather dashing figure in the formal attire that Josephine had managed to dredge up from Maker knew where. They were more comfortable than she would have expected, she had to admit, but Molly couldn’t help but be a bit wistful at the lack of a gown. A blush suffused her face and she turned away as she remembered some of the assignations she’d managed to overhear as she made her way up here. Some things were much easier to get away with in gowns. A new part of her, more insistent than the first, began listing all of the possible benefits to being alone in the shadows with Cullen, with no one nearby to witness their exchange.

She shut away that part of herself as well, though it fought much harder to be heard.

“Josephine likely _would_ be disappointed in me,” she tried, keeping her voice light as she continued to watch the crowd below, “if I tried to mingle without first gaining my bearings.” She offered him a conspiratorial smile. “It pays to watch for a while first, to see where alliances and divides already exist.” Her voice changed softly as she unconsciously mimicked her mother, quoting her, “There are also benefits in remaining aloof, when you are a stranger, at least at the start of the evening. It will lend you a mysterious air and give more weight to your interactions when you at last choose to join the fray.”

Cullen tilted his head and gave her a thoughtful look. “I forget,” he said, “that you were born into this.” He gestured at the ballroom. “I suppose this must all feel very familiar to you.”

Molly shrugged. “I’d say it’s more like slipping into an old dress that doesn’t fit very well. I remember the early lessons, and the parties and politics, but I never really had much chance to become involved with it.” She glanced down at her hand, where the mark was silent for moment. She could still feel the power pulsing there, though, a beat countering that of her heart. “I was eight when I went to the Circle,” she added, glancing back up at Cullen. She shrugged again. “Some of my early lessons were useful there, I’ll grant you, but for the most part they had little to do with how my life turned. Being here may be familiar, in the vaguest of senses, but I would hardly call it comfortable.”

“Ah, I see.” Cullen pursed his lips and nodded.

Molly turned her gaze back to the crowd, reaffirming observations she’d already made. If Cullen had come looking, her absence below had been noted. She’d have to wade back in soon. She bit back a sigh and weighed her options on who to speak with first.

“Do you miss it?”

Molly glanced back in surprise at the question. Cullen blushed under her scrutiny and she fought back a smile. That blush was quickly becoming one of her favorite things in life.

When she didn’t answer, he cleared his throat. “That life, I mean,” he clarified. “Do you ever miss it? Do you ever…regret how your life turned out?”

“I missed the pretty dresses,” she admitted with a rueful smile, “and the fancy food. At least, when I first got to the Circle. But…” She risked a quick glance to ensure they were still alone and turned her back to the rail. Holding out her unmarked hand, she called forward a small wisp of clear, blue light. Her smile turned from rueful to one of pure delight at the warmth that spread through her when she called forth the tiny bit of magic. “Magic? _This_? Learning how it works, how to control it, how to help people with it? It more than makes up for anything I may have lost. _This_ is who I am.”

She glanced up and let the wisp wink out. Cullen’s eyes were wide in surprise when she met them, and yes, there was a hint of wariness there. It was gone quickly, however, and he offered her a shaky smile. “Yes,” he replied, “I suppose it is.” His smile softened as he glanced at the crowd. “Someone with your spirit would have been wasted in a life like this, I’d wager.”

“Or smothered.”

He shot her a sharp look but then nodded. It was all too easy for Molly to imagine the woman she might have become if she’d remained a true Trevelyan, graced with a life of nobility and never knowing the fear and wonder that came with the life of a mage. She guessed that Cullen was coming to a similar conclusion.

“Well,” she said after a moment, offering him her arm, “I’ve kept myself aloof long enough, I’m afraid. Will you walk me back down?”

“Of course, Inquisitor.” He took her arm without hesitation and they turned for the nearest stairs.

Cullen was silent as they walked, and some of his restlessness had stilled. She resisted the urge to lean into him in the close quarters of the stairwell, surprised by how comforting she found his presence. She was glad he had been the one to come looking for her. They reached the crowd of mingling nobles and Cullen released her arm, melting into the crowd with a whisper of “good luck.” A small burst of confidence washed through her as she made her way over to a cluster of dignitaries, and she did not have to fake the smile that spread across her face.

Wary of her magic though he might be, she had seen something else in Cullen’s eyes. There had been understanding there as well.

And that? Well, that she could work with.


End file.
